


Harry Potter and the Last Loss

by Khashana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Get Together, Multi, Romance, Working Out Issues, canon-compliant slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ginny is killed on one of Harry's Auror missions, he finds solace in Draco Malfoy, who also lost his wife that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mostly Half-Blood Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is canon-compliant. For an explanation thereof, see my profile. Some of the summarized scenes belong to J.K. Rowling entirely. I tried very hard to stay away from copying. If something sounds suspiciously like original wording, blame my selectively eidetic memory. I use sub-chapters because some of them are extremely short. Sub-chapter titles which are the same as chapter titles from books are to tell you that events in my sub-chapter by title A occur, chronologically, during J.K.’s chapter by title A. Unfamiliar sub-chapter titles are entirely my plot. Characters and related indicia, however, still belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.  
> JK is a much, much better writer than I, and any paraphrase I do of her is going to sound bored and sloppy because she has already chosen the perfect words. I promise my writing gets better when it’s my work. Please hold out until the second chapter!

Half-Blood Prince: Will and Won't

Harry Potter was dreaming. He was sitting in a very uncomfortable chair in Dumbledore's office, attempting to have a conversation with the headmaster about leaving the Dursleys' house for the Burrow. This task, however, was greatly impeded by the snarky blonde leaning over Dumbledore's shoulder, grinning at Harry and making it exceedingly hard for Harry to concentrate on what he was doing. Malfoy had the audacity even to climb on top of Dumbledore's desk, appearing very much like an oversized cat. He reached out impossibly far from where he was reclining and—slowly, slowly—laid his fingers on Harry's cheek. Harry stopped trying to decide whether he wanted the headmaster to take him to the Burrow or Malfoy Manor. Then a light went out and Harry woke up.

He stared out at the streetlight and caught a glimpse of a tall wizard with long silver hair striding down the darkened street. Harry put the thought of how clearly he could remember how Malfoy's hand had felt on his face out of his mind and launched himself from his chair.

xxx

Draco's Detour

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into Madame Malkin's and stopped dead. Draco Malfoy was being fitted.

Ron and Hermione drew their wands at once, but Harry was being rudely reminded of his now-weeks-ago dream. What if Malfoy touched him, for real this time? What would it be like?

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in," drawled Draco, and Harry drew his wand, too. He ignored Madame Malkin's flustered attempts to keep the peace in her shop and focused on loathing Malfoy. What did he care how Malfoy's hand would feel on his cheek, when he was a slimy, prejudiced git who constantly insulted everyone Harry loved? Harry got in a few good taunts to Narcissa Malfoy, pleased to watch Malfoy's face harden and hear his angry words. But when Malfoy took off his new robes, drawing them up over his head in one fluid motion, Harry admired the gracefulness through the spoiled-childishness of the act, and when Malfoy knocked into Ron on the way out, Harry had to actively prevent himself from wishing it had been him.

What is wrong with you? he chastised himself. It's Malfoy. Bane of your existence. Irritation of your life. Death Eater's son. You want nothing to do with him.

Harry put Malfoy out of his mind at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He was not going to think of the Slytherin. Until, of course, Draco showed up outside the shop, heading down the street, and, as Harry noted out loud, motherless. Fine, thought Harry. If Malfoy was going to keep showing up, Harry was going to follow him. Besides, there were quite pressing legitimate reasons to do so. He checked that no one was looking their direction and whipped out the invisibility cloak. They barely caught up with him going down Knockturn Alley, and Harry told himself furiously that if he was glad they had caught him, it was because he was up to something. Which he was, unsurprisingly—chatting to the owner of Borgin and Burkes, the same Dark shop Harry had stumbled into in second year. Ron pulled out a set of Extendable Ears from Fred and George's shop, and they carefully fed the ends under the door. But Malfoy gave them very few clues about what he was up to. He had a broken item that he wanted Borgin's advice about fixing, but he couldn't bring it in. And he wanted a matching item reserved. Hermione elected to try and find out what, but she was nowhere near as good as intimidating Borgin as Malfoy, and the hunt was fruitless. So, they returned to Fred and George's, and Harry tried once more to put Malfoy out of his mind.

xxx

The Slug Club

This attempt, however, seemed as fruitless as the first. Harry, however, managed to convince himself that he was only interested in what Malfoy was doing at Borgin's. What else, after all, could he possibly care about? No, this strange fascination was only a further development of his hatred for Malfoy. He, therefore, allowed himself to talk almost incessantly about it, going over and rejecting possibilities. He didn't even take the warning signs of Ron's and Hermione's quick boredom with the subject seriously. And then he put two and two together: Madame Malkin's, when Malfoy hadn't let her roll up his sleeve, and Borgin's, when he had showed Borgin something that scared him, something that said who he was dealing with, something they couldn't see.

Malfoy had the Dark Mark. He was right, he knew it. But for some reason, Ron and Hermione didn't believe him. Honestly, Harry didn't find it that much of a stretch. Why would Voldemort care if someone was of age? How could Lucius and Narcissa possibly voice a complaint without severe punishment, if indeed they cared? By September 1st, Harry was convinced enough to tip off Mr Weasley about the incident.

Later, on the train, Harry's new obsession was fed by the news that Malfoy wasn't taking advantage of his position as prefect. Given the opportunity, Harry slipped into the Slytherin compartment under the invisibility cloak. The Slytherins were discussing the Slug Club. They talked about Ginny. Even Zabini thought she was pretty, apparently. Was Ginny pretty? Harry supposed she was. Very pretty, in fact. Harry wondered if Malfoy thought Pansy Parkinson, who was stroking his hair, was pretty. No, he decided. Pansy looked exactly like a pug dog. Then Malfoy began to talk about interesting things. He might have other plans than school, he said. Bigger and better things. And he could be of service to the Dark Lord. Maybe the Dark Lord had a job for him that didn't require qualifications. The train stopped. The other Slytherins filed out, but Malfoy stayed behind. He rummaged in his trunk. Harry leaned out to see what he was doing. And then Malfoy Petrified him. Harry fell, painfully, out of the luggage rack, in which he'd been hiding. He lay helpless in front of Draco Malfoy, completely at his mercy, and Draco Malfoy stepped on his nose and broke it. Never had Harry so loathed the blonde Slytherin. He expected Malfoy to steal the cloak, but instead, Malfoy covered him with it. Harry lay there, invisible, bleeding profusely, as Malfoy shut the carriage door behind him. He was leaving him on the train, to be taken back to London. Did Malfoy really hate him that much, that he would rather see Harry sent home than have his Cloak?

xxx

Sectumsempra

Malfoy was bleeding, issuing great ragged gasps. Harry splashed through the water, ignoring Myrtle's shouts as she flew out the door. He fell to his knees beside Malfoy. Slashes in Malfoy's shirt revealed matching ones in his skin, from which blood was seeping alarmingly fast. Harry's head was on fire. What could he possibly do against so much blood? He tried to staunch the bleeding with his hands, but there were too many cuts. Not even Malfoy deserves this. Numbly, without really thinking, he laid his full weight on top of Malfoy, scooping his arms underneath the unconscious blonde to pull him even closer, staunching the bleeding with his own body. There was nothing alien about holding the other boy so close, and that in itself was terrifying for reasons Harry couldn't articulate. Harry could still see the tears and snot tracking down Draco's face. Draco had been crying…and Myrtle had said he'd been there before…Something like pity tugged at Harry's heart as he held Draco. All at once, his body divorced his mind's claim on its actions, and his lips reached forward to softly brush Draco's. Startled by his own impulse, he scrambled backward, just in time to see Snape come through the door with more force than was really necessary to open it.

xxx

The Hospital Wing

Harry could not go visit Malfoy in the hospital wing. Not after that. He'd attacked him, and then kissed him, hadn't he? No, not really kissed him. It hadn't been a real kiss. And Draco—no, Malfoy—probably had no idea. He wouldn't try Crucio on Harry under Madame Pomfrey's watchful eye, would he? And that curse…Harry had to apologize. A curse like that. How could the Prince have copied it down?

Over and over he puzzled, earning strange looks from Ron and Hermione. In the end, he went. Malfoy was lying in a bed fairly close to the door, staring at the ceiling. He had on a fresh shirt, unbuttoned over white bandages. He sneered at Harry.

"Come to gloat, Potter?" He fingered his wand as though trying to decide whether to curse Harry.

"No!" said Harry, trying and failing to think of something believable to say.

"You're a rotten piece of filth, Potter, and if you don't mind," said Malfoy, every word dripping with venom, "I'd like you to sod off now." Harry held up one finger and slowly reached for his wand. When Malfoy did not try to curse him, Harry cast Muffliato upon Madam Pomfrey's door and slipped it back into his robes as Malfoy shot a confused glance at the door in question.

"I was actually coming up here to apologize," said Harry bitterly. "I didn't know what it did."

"Oh, so you decided to try it out on me?" drawled Malfoy.

"You tried to throw an Unforgivable Curse at me, if you remember," said Harry. Malfoy didn't reply, but blinked slowly. Harry was suddenly reminded of Malfoy's tear-stained cheeks. "What's Voldemort making you do?" he asked without malice. Malfoy recoiled, and some of Harry's usual irritation returned. "Oh, you work for him, and you can't even hear his name? Come on, Malfoy." Malfoy smirked suddenly. "What?" demanded Harry.

"I think lovers can use first names with each other, don't you?" Malfoy replied slowly. Harry was suddenly fervently glad he'd used Muffliato.

"What are you—We're not—"

"You kissed me, Potter. Yes, I was awake for that," Malfoy added in response to Harry's look of horror. Harry turned to leave. He would not, could not, bear this, too from Malfoy, but he felt the other grab his wrist and he was abruptly shot through with terrifying, overwhelming desire. He whipped back around and stared at Malfoy, whose face was suddenly filled with an unabashed hunger. Malfoy tugged on the wrist he held and Harry took a step forward so he was right beside the bed. Malfoy let go of his wrist and took Harry's face instead with both hands, pulling him downward to-kiss him on the lips. The touch was like a small electric shock, and Harry pressed into it, craving more. It was an extremely uncomfortable attitude for his back after only a few seconds, though, and he climbed onto the bed without really thinking about it. It was so much better than his dreams, which admittedly contained Malfoy and Ginny in equal measure. Then it broke through to him that he was sitting astride Draco Malfoy, snogging him senseless, and he broke away with a gasp.

Malfoy looked at him with an unreadable expression, and Harry climbed off the bed, trying not to notice how aroused he was, and left the room without a backward glance.

Ron might have managed it, but even Harry couldn't deny that he might possibly be attracted to Malfoy after that.

His only consolation was Ginny. He had snogged Malfoy, twice, but he couldn't fall for him. He actually enjoyed being with Ginny. He trusted her, he thought she was funny, he genuinely liked her, and so, on top of wanting to snog her quite as badly as he wanted Malfoy, he was daring to believe that he was falling in love with her as well. He didn't like Draco Malfoy, though. He didn't trust him. Those were prerequisites for loving him. At first he had tried to convince himself that it was only brotherly love that he felt for Ginny, mostly because of Ron. How would Ron react? He'd made his opinion of his sister's dating habits quite clear. But admitting to himself that his feelings for Ginny were more than that, even if he had to keep them hidden, helped him with the problem of Malfoy. He wasn't stuck with boys. He'd admitted to himself, finally, that Malfoy hadn't been a fluke. Other boys attracted his attention, too. But so did girls. Not that he was going to admit any of this. Who could he talk to? If Ron reacted badly to Harry and Ginny, how much worse might he react to Harry and some bloke, especially Draco Malfoy? Hermione might understand, but he couldn't risk her knowing for fear it might get back to Ron. She wouldn't tell Ron to spite Harry, of course, but simply the way she acting around him might change enough for Ron to notice. And he certainly couldn't tell Ginny or Malfoy.

Harry kept trying to catch Malfoy alone. To ask him again what he was doing, to talk to him, or just to kiss him again, he wasn't sure. He only knew that he desperately wanted to see what more could come of their previous interaction. Those efforts ended, though, on the night of their last Quidditch match. Harry came up to the Gryffindor common room from detention apprehensively. He opened the portrait hole and was greeted by a cacophony of screaming, cheering people in red and gold. In the middle of them all, Ron was clutching the Quidditch Cup above his head. He spotted Harry, roaring the score, but Harry barely had time to process it before Ginny was racing toward him, and he looked into her eyes and knew what she wanted, and he knew that he wanted to give it to her, and so, without planning anything out loud, they threw their arms around each other and kissed. It was nothing like kissing Malfoy. That was nothing but lust, need buried so deep it emerged when he lost control. That was hunger. This was merely emotion expressing itself. Instead of feeding his hormones, Harry was revelling in Ginny herself, experiencing pure Ginny in a way that was more intimate than anything he'd ever felt. This was falling in love.


	2. Transition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First subchapter is sort of covering two of the last chapters of Half-Blood Prince. Second subchapter occurs in Deathly Hallows directly after Harry tells Neville to kill 'll notice if you reread carefully that Neville's "bending over a body" when Harry goes up to him, but when Harry's done talking, Neville just leaves, without doing anything about the body. Finally, we get into post-books work.

The Seer Overheard/The Cave

Harry was happier with Ginny than he thought was possible. But he still thought about Malfoy. Not about kissing him—he was trying to be faithful to Ginny, even in thought, though he couldn't exactly help his dreams—but about the day he'd found him crying. "He's gonna kill me," Malfoy had said, and if "He" was Voldemort, Harry knew this to be entirely possible.

Draco might be doing this out of nothing but a simple fear for his own skin, and though Harry would rather have died than work for Voldemort, he could empathize a little with Malfoy. Fear like he had seen the Slytherin display was something hard to bear. But any pity vanished when he met Professor Trelawney outside the Room of Requirement, having quite accidentally entered after Malfoy, just as Harry had been trying to do all year. Malfoy had fixed whatever it was, Harry was certain, and Malfoy was not remorseful, then—Professor Trelawney had heard him whooping—only scared that he would not succeed. He was happy that his project would work. But Dumbledore side-tracked Harry from this thought by announcing that it was Horcrux-hunting night. And Draco Malfoy did not return to Harry's thoughts until he found himself Petrified once more, invisible, unable to do anything but watch as first Malfoy, then Snape, raised their wands on Dumbledore. Bits of news hit him like thunderbolts. Malfoy was the one who had poisoned Ron. He had got the idea from Hermione's talk of love potions. He, once more, called Hermione a Mudblood. He was trying to kill Dumbledore all along. But he was wavering…He was here to kill Dumbledore, but he had not…until Snape did it for him.

xxx

Deathly Hallows: The Forest Again

Harry looked down at the body Neville had apparently abandoned, and saw Draco, who was watching him, gashes in his chest reminding Harry forcefully of Sectumsempra. But then they began to heal over, apparently already treated with dittany, and he relaxed.

Draco raised a hand up to him and Harry knelt. Their eyes met. Draco's expression changed, from self-pity to…understanding? If he didn't know what Harry was doing, he saw the deadness in his eyes. His wandering hand grabbed the neck of Harry's robes and pulled him close. He paused, and kissed Harry.

Part of Harry wanted to climb on top of the healing Draco and kiss him back, so passionately he would lose himself in the feel of Draco's lips, forget that there was a world outside that needed saving, a Dark Lord in the forest he needed to find, a death he had to embrace. But he couldn't do it. So instead he just kissed the other boy back, not opening his mouth, taking solace and drawing strength from the touch of another's soul that such a kiss was. He had felt that before with Ginny, and he felt it now, with Draco, until Draco broke it off and something in his eyes said goodbye. He, of all people, would not push Harry to do the selfish thing and stay. Harry hoped his eyes showed gratitude for that. Draco could be all right when the dittany finished its work; now that he looked, the cuts were not deep. He stood up, still locked with the blonde boy's eyes, and threw the cloak around himself. He could see the change. The other pair of eyes could not see him anymore, were not focused on him, though they remained on the spot where he disappeared. Harry walked away.

xxx

Afterwards: Till Death Do Us Part

Dolohov advanced on the bound man, wand outstretched.

"You little piece of filth," he growled. "Good-for-nothing family. Couldn't kill Harry Potter before he killed the Dark Lord."

"I was seventeen!" shouted Draco Malfoy. "Antonin, what did you expect?"

"Harry Potter was seventeen, a half-blood child with a streak of luck. Your family is as old as time and you didn't have the guts or the power to finish him."

"Why don't you kill him, then?" Draco spat. "Why come after my family? Haven't you learned anything, Antonin? Winning is all that matters, and the Dark Lord wasn't winning. Voldemort—" Dolohov flinched. "I can call him by his name!" shouted Malfoy. "And you grovel still! And you think you could have finished Potter in my place!" Pansy Malfoy stiffened as she heard a voice in her ear.

"Have you ever even cast the Killing Curse, boy? Let me show you. Avada—"

"NO!" screamed Pansy, and ran, somehow loosed from her bonds. She flung herself in front of her husband as a blast of green light hit her square in the back.

"Pansy!" yelled Draco.

"Mum!" yelled the fourteen-year-old boy trussed on the sofa. Antonin Dolohov raised his eyebrows.

"Can't kill you now, eh, Draco? Not going to make the same mistake as our dear, departed Dark Lord. But, I can kill your son!" And he rounded on Scorpius Malfoy. Several people shouted several spells at once. A crowd of bat-demons appeared out of nowhere and swarmed Dolohov, who began shooting spells in random directions. Draco Malfoy found his bonds loose. And part of the roof came down. Scorpius, who had rolled off the expensive sofa in an effort to avoid being murdered, was sheltered under the coffee table. Malfoy, previously tied to a large pillar, was also safe. Harry Potter, who had whipped off his invisibility cloak, was unharmed behind the pillars. But pieces of plaster hid Dolohov and revealed a tangle of blazing red hair.

"Ginny!" hollered Harry, and ran to her, tenderly lifting pieces of plaster off her.

"Idiot. Bloody Gryffindor," snarled Draco, and took it upon himself to stun and bind Dolohov with his wand, which he retrieved from the Death Eater's pocket, before untying his son.

"I told you to stay outside. Routine Death Eater clean-up," muttered Harry as he cradled Ginny in his lap.

"Good hex, though, wasn't it?" murmured Ginny, her eyes out of focus.

"Your best. We need to get you to a Healer."

"No time. I love you, Harry. Tell the kids I'm sorry."

"You'll tell them yourself. Come on, Ginny. I can't lose you. Not you, too. Please. Hold on."

"It's too late, Potter," said Draco, almost gently. He and Scorpius were crouched beside Pansy's still body. Tears coursed down Scorpius' cheeks.

"No…" sobbed Harry. Draco stood up.

"If there are any reserve Aurors out there, you can come in. The coast is clear," he called. Ron Weasley entered. He scanned the area, and alighted on Ginny.

"NO!" he screamed, and ran to crouch with Harry beside her. "Ginny! Ginny, please wake up!" It was going to fall to Draco to clean things up, he could see that much. He left his son with his wife's body and went to the fireplace.

A batch of Aurors and Ministry officials arrived after long to help out. They took Dolohov into custody, helped Draco set wards on the remains of his house, and arranged for transport of the bodies of Ginevra Potter and Pansy Malfoy. Ron and Harry were taken back to their own houses to grieve with their families. Malfoys had to be strong, Draco had always told his son that, but this was something for which he could allow weakness. He was not his father. And so he held Scorpius while he cried. When the boy fell asleep in his arms, exhausted with grief, he carried him up to Draco's own bed and laid him there. Draco himself sat by the bed, thinking. Pansy had given her life for him. He hadn't realized she had loved him that much, and he wished he could tell her so. Had he loved Pansy? In a way. It had been akin to an arranged marriage. For the lord of a Slytherin manor, and head of a centuries-old family, he had very few choices for a partner. And Potter. Pansy's sacrifice had been rather akin to Potter's own mother's, if he remembered the stories rightly. Potter had been listening as he and Antonin argued about him. Draco would have expected him to step out, whip off that cloak of his and say, "Yes, Dolohov, why don't you kill me yourself?" He had, instead, acted almost like a Slytherin, slipping behind them to cut their bonds. It was only Dolohov's anger at Draco's taunts that kept everything from working out, with everyone still alive. Pansy's sacrifice had cost Mrs Potter her life. But it had bought his. He would never be able to thank her. As he thought that, it crossed his mind that he didn't want to thank her. The look on Potter's face, as his wife died…no, that was foolishness. And Pansy couldn't possibly have known. Had it even occurred to her who had been behind her, invisible? But Draco couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for Potter.

xxx

Aftermath

Harry and his family spent a lot of time with the Weasleys after that. Ron and Harry were both appalled at the way even after death, Voldemort had snatched one more thing from them.

"Fred wasn't enough," said Ron bitterly on one such occasion. "Amelia Bones, Emmeline Vance, Lupin and Tonks and Colin Creevey weren't enough."

"My mum and dad," added Harry. "Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Cedric. I thought the deaths would be over."

"Guess that's what we get for being Aurors, mate," said Ron. "And for Ginny being so bloody noble."

"That sucks," said Harry, burying his face in his hands. "I chase my dream, finally make it when I should have died, and what happens? It gets my wife killed." His eyes burned, but no tears fell. He was done crying by now.

"I suppose we have to be grateful she wasn't killed in the final battle, though," said Hermione, coming to sit beside them. Sorrow streaked her face as much as the boys'—she and Ginny had been close friends as the only two girls between their three families. "You got more than twenty years with her, when it could have been none."

xxx

"Dad?" asked Lily when she stepped out of the fireplace back home. "Do we have to go over there quite so often?" Harry was taken aback.

"Not if you don't want to," he replied. "Why?"

"They don't get it," she replied. "Rose and Hugo. Yeah, she was their Aunt Ginny, and they miss her a lot, but their home life hasn't changed. But I can't walk in this house and know Mum isn't here. I can't pretend she'll cook the meals or come to hold me when I'm sad or yell at James for flying too close to the Muggles. If you're not home and I want dinner, I have to make it. If I want James not to tease me, I have to tell him. And they don't get that."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. The boys thus far were silent, standing behind their sister, but their expressions told Harry they agreed. He hadn't thought about it, but he supposed they were right. The Weasleys could push Ginny's loss to the back of their minds when they had to. The Potters were faced with it every day. He supposed it was like George's life without Fred. All of his siblings had missed him like a lost limb, but George had lost his best friend, his partner in magic, and his closest confidante. Which Ginny was to Harry now, or had been for twenty-three years. Ron loved his sister to pieces, but he hadn't lost what Harry had, just as neither of them had lost what George had, or—

"You know who would get it?" said Harry without thinking. "Scorpius Malfoy." James and Lily stared at him, too adult to say, "But he's a Slytherin!" but not enough that it didn't show on their faces. "I know he's a Slytherin," said Harry wearily. "And I know at your age that's all that matters. It was just a suggestion."

"Dad's right," said Al unexpectedly. Everyone looked at him. "I remember what you said about my name," he mumbled. "Not all Slytherins are bad."

"Come to think of it," said Harry, "I wouldn't think he's got anyone to talk to. Malfoys are supposed to be stronger than that." Lily melted.

"Can't hurt to try," she said. "One visit, and we'll see how it goes?" James gave up and submitted to his siblings.

"Fine," he said irritably. "But I won't be held responsible for what happens if he says 'blood traitors'."


	3. Competition, Conversation, Confrontation, Confession

Competition, Conversation, Confrontation, Confession

Draco and Scorpius Malfoy came up the drive, immaculately dressed. Scorpius looked vaguely ill, and Harry guessed that he had just experienced Side-Along Apparition. Harry met them at the door and invited them cordially in. Al appeared at the back door as planned.

"Want to play Quidditch?" he said to Scorpius. "That'll even out the teams." Draco waved Scorpius away, and the blonde and black heads disappeared together.

"Your children all play Quidditch?" said Draco to Harry.

"Their parents were pretty good at school," said Harry, smiling slightly. "Only bound to happen, I suppose. Scorpius' father wasn't half bad, either, as I recall." Malfoy smiled without malice.

"His mother preferred the bleachers, though." His smile faded, as did Harry's.

"I'm sorry—" Harry started, but Malfoy cut him off.

"As I'm sure you know, Potter, there's hardly a subject that will not remind me of my late wife, as nothing will take your mind off yours. That was the reason you brought me here, was it not? To commiserate?"

"Mostly for our children's sake," said Harry. "Mine are tired of being around people who can't understand what they're going through. But yes."

"Then let's not do ourselves the disservice of trying to scoot around the subject," said Malfoy. Harry nodded.

"If I come home late, I find my kids trying to decipher cookbooks," he said.

"Our house-elves do our cooking," said Malfoy. "But I leave work early every day because my son is alone in the house."

"I still ignore James when he starts teasing Al or Lily because I expect her to stop it."

"I half expect to see her reading in bed when I go to sleep."

"Every time I see Lily toss her hair or give her brothers a mean look, I see her."

"Just seeing my son reminds me of what I had."

"When I watch James and Lily play Quidditch, they're so high up I sometimes think I'm seeing myself and Ginny on the Gryffindor team in our sixth year."

"When Scorpius talks about Slytherin girls kissing up to him, I remember how Pansy did the same to me."

"Is that why you married her?" said Harry without thinking. Draco gave him a look, and Harry began to apologize again.

"While I'm glad you've acknowledged the rudeness of that comment and the fact that there's really no need to act like schoolboys given it's been over twenty years since we left, in all honesty," said Draco, "I'm not sure why I married her. Tired of dating, I suppose. This is between us, yes?"

"Of course," agreed Harry automatically. "It was just…I always had to wonder, given…"

"Given?" prompted Malfoy, but Harry shook his head, flushing.

"It doesn't matter." He was saved from further inquiry by shouts from outside. Malfoy looked as though he didn't know whether to be alarmed or not. "Someone's won," Harry explained.

"How exactly does one play Quidditch with only two players? Or do you have guests I don't know about?" Harry shook his head incredulously.

"You've never done it?"

"I was an only child, you might recall. And my summers weren't spent with children my age. I flew with my father when I was a boy, and after that, I got my Quidditch practice at school."

"Well," said Harry, "it depends on who's playing, both on number and positions. Like if you've got just one person on each team and they're both Seekers, then you just play with the Snitch. What they're probably playing now is one person as Chaser and Keeper and the other as Seeker. The only problem is having an even number of players. If Rose comes over, Hugo wants to play, too. That was a lot of trouble when they were younger, till they got the idea of having the fifth person referee and rotate through. You should try it."

"But you're just too polite to offer," said Malfoy mildly. This threw Harry.

"I didn't mean—" He stopped and collected himself. "If you want to borrow my clothes, because what you've got on won't work, and play Quidditch with me, in my backyard, with my Snitch, you're welcome."

"I see your point," said Malfoy, smirking slightly. "I'd prefer the playing field to be a little more even." He was quiet, and Harry thought the discussion was over, until Malfoy added, "But I could manage." Harry raised his eyebrows, then grinned.

"I'll get you a pair of jeans." Reading Malfoy's expression, he added, "Muggle pants. Don't start; they're the best thing next to Quidditch robes and you're not having those." He climbed the stairs and returned in a minute, wearing jeans and a T-shirt himself and tossing similar attire to Malfoy with a hasty, "Bathroom's that way," before heading out doors.

Once dressed, Malfoy followed. There was a small woodland track in back of the house, leading to a small field perfect for a Quidditch pitch. On the way, he spotted his son, walking with a tall boy with black hair, a redheaded girl, and the boy at the door, who was a carbon copy of Harry at sixteen. Malfoy smirked to himself as he remembered his own sixth year. Something Harry had said clicked, and he smirked harder. Scorpius caught sight of him and flushed, possibly because he, too, was now in Muggle wear, then looked confused, Draco supposed at the sight of his father looking anything less than aristocratic. He waved to his son and continued.

Harry was waiting astride a Firebolt.

"How come I'm riding yours?" asked Malfoy as he took the Firebolt 300 Harry was holding out to him.

"You're not," said Harry. "This one," he indicated the broom he was on, "is my broom."

"Then…" Draco remembered with a flash that Ginny Potter had played nationally, and dropped the subject. "Still don't know why they let you play on that against Chang's Cleansweep," he said, mounting and kicking off.

"What are you talking about, your whole team had Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones the day you joined!" said Harry. "And this is a replacement, I lost my other broom. There's a Snitch flying around here somewhere, I've no idea where except it's within the boundaries of this clearing. Count to three and then go?"

"If you like," said Malfoy. "One, two, three, go!" They sped off in opposite directions. Malfoy tested the feel of Ginny's broom while keeping an eye out for the Snitch. It was an odd feeling, not having to weave in and out of other people and balls to find the little Snitch. All he had to do was get close enough. And sure enough, in a few minutes of circling—there! But Harry was closer. Malfoy snuck up on his tail and zoomed ahead, but Harry cottoned on in time and was ahead of him, both of their brooms pushing to the max. Perfect.

"You're one to talk," yelled Malfoy over the wind in his ears.

"About what?" hollered Harry.

"Me and Pansy. You wondered about that, given…that I kissed you in sixth year, is that what you were going to say?" It worked. Harry pulled back sharply and Malfoy zoomed ahead to close his fingers around the Golden Snitch. He raised it above his head victoriously and coasted to the ground. Harry followed.

"Now, that wasn't fair," he complained.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you haven't distracted the other Seeker on purpose before. In fact, I seem to remember hearing that you did it to Harper when he went on instead of me."

"Yeah, I asked him how much you paid him to do it. Not the same thing. I suppose you were off working on the Vanishing Cabinet." They frowned at one another.

"I suppose the only reason you remember those exact events from, let's see, twenty-two years ago, is that you've never forgiven me," said Malfoy quietly.

"How?" asked Harry emptily. "You cursed one of my teammates and poisoned my best friend. You helped Voldemort."

"Have you any idea—"

"Of course I do! You were scared. He would have killed you if you failed. But you were happy to do it for him. You didn't get help from Dumbledore. You didn't take him up on his offer to hide you. Yes, I was there!" he added in response to Malfoy's shocked look. "I was Petrified and invisible or I would have stopped you."

"I thought someone was up there…" mused Malfoy. He looked at Harry. "But I didn't kill him. He was right. I couldn't do it. And my whole family suffered." Harry looked disbelieving.

"I lost my family. Ron lost family. We lost teachers, classmates, Order members—but your family went through a bit of inconvenient humiliation and you call that suffering?"

"I did my best to save your life when you were captured!" said Malfoy heatedly. "Don't you remember? I didn't identify you. My mother asked. My aunt Bella asked. There was a werewolf in the room to rip my throat out, the Dark Lord a touch away to either reward my family and me beyond our dreams if I said you were Harry Potter or kill me in an instant if I seemed disloyal. And I didn't turn you in."

"You couldn't be sure," challenged Harry. "I didn't recognize myself. If you'd called him and been wrong—" Malfoy laughed harshly.

"You honestly think I didn't know? Honestly, Potter, who else has black hair, green eyes, round black glasses that look as though they've been broken a lot, and a scar on their forehead, who travel with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger? Oh, yes," he added in response to Harry's look, "You forgot about that, didn't you? They asked me if I knew your friends. Of course I did. I saw them most every day for six years. I recognized Weasley the day I met him, you don't think I could have been positive beyond a doubt that it was them? 'I don't know,' I said. 'I don't know, maybe.'"

"And then, 'Yeah,'" said Harry.

"With the greatest reluctance, and after you'd already been identified!" said Malfoy. "I couldn't keep denying it after that, could I? And what would have been the point? You used my wand after yours was broken, you took it out of my hand, and that won you the battle in the end, don't you remember?"

"Don't make it sound like you planned for me to get the Elder Wand. That was luck."

"You didn't plan it either. A lot comes down to luck in your life, Potter. Your mother was close enough to give her life for you. That was one thing. Then you kept not getting in trouble when you should've. Didn't get caught. I laid a trap for you in the trophy room once, remember?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I escaped you and ran into the three-headed dog guarding the Sorcerer's Stone."

"And didn't get eaten? More luck. And you survived when the Dark Lord came hunting the Stone."

"I didn't have to go down there—Voldemort couldn't have broken through Dumbledore's protection," said Harry. "Me getting the Stone only freed it from that protection."

"But he still didn't get it. Luck, luck, luck, Potter, with some nerve and cleverness and powerful friends to help."

"I know that!" said Harry, taking Malfoy by surprise. "I've been saying that for years, and no one believes me! I'm either some powerful enemy that needs killing or a hero. But a kid that can't turn down a challenge and is best friends with some clever people, not to mention parents to avenge—no, no one ever comes up with that. Hell, I even used a lucky potion once."

"I'm still trying to figure out how you won that," said Malfoy. "Don't tell me you were so frightened of Snape that all your natural Potions brilliance just spilled out when Slughorn started teaching." He looked surprised when Harry started to laugh. "What?"

"I never realized before just how much Snape really taught me. I didn't think about it that way, I was a bit distracted by the fact he'd just killed Dumbledore. I had Snape's old copy of the Potions book. He'd made revisions to almost everything. You'd have done a lot better if he had been teaching—he would have already known how much fixing the book's instructions needed and assigned something else. Come to think of it, maybe that's why he always put the ingredients on the board instead of making us read it from the textbook." Malfoy looked outraged.

"You mean if I hadn't bothered to buy a copy of my own and had to borrow a school one, it could just as easily have been me who got all those brilliant marks in Potions?"

"Yep," said Harry, grinning infuriatingly. "But look at it this way—I ended up using the potion to get a crucial bit of information for killing Voldemort. If you'd gotten it, if you'd done it before we went to that awful cave, Dumbledore wouldn't have been weakened, and he might have been alive…though the curse was killing him anyway, so never mind. Did I lose you?" he added, seeing the look on Malfoy's face. "Fine, we'll allow that you did the best you could at Malfoy Manor. What about in the Room of Requirement?"

Harry glared at Malfoy, who looked down.

"Well?" Harry demanded.

"I have no excuse," said Malfoy finally. "I was angry, Potter. I hadn't completed my mission. I was weak."

Harry started to interrupt, but Malfoy snapped, "That's how the Dark Lord saw it! It was only the fact that Snape had done it before I could let my wand fall that kept me alive. I was taunted, mocked. I didn't want to do it anymore. Neither did my parents—but I guess you know that."

Harry nodded.

"And then you took my wand. Yours broke, do you know how it feels to know you can do effortless magic, except the thing in your hand won't obey you?"

"You didn't win yours from your mother," said Harry, "did you? She lent it to you." Malfoy looked confused. "I won your wand," said Harry, "by disarming you. It changed its allegiance. Else I'd offer to give it back."

"I've got a new one since then," said Malfoy drily, "but the offer is appreciated."

"Your mother's wand wasn't won, so it didn't work well for you. But yes. I know what that's like."

"So there I was. I still didn't believe you could win, and here was something I could do to regain my standing in the Dark Lord's reign. I didn't have to kill a defenceless old man who'd never hurt me, instead, I could hand over Harry Potter, the boy who'd caused me so much grief over the years, the one who landed my father in jail, the one who'd rejected me, cursed me, the one who left me alone to deal with the fact I'd just snogged a boy on purpose—" He stopped and smiled without humour at Harry. "You thought I understood all that, did you? That I wasn't just as confused as you were? Well, I've always been better at hiding my emotions. Anyway, finally, you were the one who'd taken my wand, left me just better than helpless, then you sneak into the castle using it! It wouldn't have been murder."

"Accessory to murder," muttered Harry, and shook his head at Draco's incomprehension.

"And my friends, Potter, my friends were quite happy in the service of the Dark Lord. You saw what Crabbe did. Given all that, is it a surprise that I acted the way I did?" Without agreeing on anything, they began to walk down to the house.

"I suppose not," said Harry reluctantly.

"Two last things, Potter, and then I'd better take my son home and stop infringing on your hospitality. One, I did pay Harper, so it was exactly the same thing, except you didn't know it. Two, do you know how it felt to see you with Ginny Weasley in public? After all, you snogged me first." And with that parting shot, Malfoy turned into the house and called for Scorpius.

Harry and his children sat around the table. They more often picked at their food than really ate it, but they woofed down tonight's supper. Harry wondered whether Scorpius had had a good effect on them or the Quidditch had merely burned all their energy. He was just as hungry, so there was very little conversation until everyone was done. Resting and allowing their full bellies to digest, the four Potters smiled at one another. Harry decided to broach the topic.

"Have fun today?" he inquired, and was met with vigorous nods.

"Scorpius is pretty cool," said Al.

"Good," said Harry. "I got to catch up with his father."

"I thought you were enemies in school?" asked James.

"We were," Harry agreed, "but shouldn't people be able to move past that twenty years later?"

"It was more than that, though," said James, dropping his voice, although there was no one else in the room. "Wasn't Mr Malfoy a Death Eater?" Harry started to reply, then blinked.

"You say Mr Malfoy, I think of Lucius, Draco's father. Draco was, yes, but not to the core. He was sort of press-ganged into it."

"So, can he come over again? Or we could go over there," suggested Al.

"I'll talk to Draco," promised Harry, "and see what he says."

Which is how Harry and Malfoy found themselves in the same position a week later, only in Malfoy Manor. Harry tried not to think about the last time he'd been here. The children greeted each other enthusiastically, then ran off to play Gobstones with Scorpius' gold-plated set. They set up near enough Harry and Malfoy that they could be heard, but were ignorable.

"Come to defend yourself about your choice of wife? Or could you just not keep away?" asked Malfoy sarcastically.

"Our children seem to really like each other," said Harry, refusing to rise to the bait. "Al especially wanted to see Scorpius again." Scorpius, who was concentrating on a gobstone, did not look up, but Al, who was closest, turned at the sound of his name.

"Dad?"

"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "Play your game." But Malfoy did not agree.

"No, come here," he said. "I'd like to ask you something." Confused, Al stood.

"My son's told me you're the most tolerant of Slytherins of all the Gryffindors. I'd like to know why that is."

"Yeah," said James, "I was wondering that, too. You said something about your name." Al looked at his father for permission, and Harry gave it with a nod of the head.

"When I was eleven, I was getting on the Hogwarts express and I was worried about which House I'd be sorted into," explained Al. "And Dad said…well, he said it didn't matter, that he and Mum would be proud of me no matter what. And then he said, 'Albus Severus, you were named for two Headmasters of Hogwarts. One was a Slytherin and he was the bravest man I ever knew.' So when I got to school, and I was sorted into Gryffindor, I kept wondering every time people got into arguments just because they were in different Houses, why it mattered so much. All my classmates hate Slytherins, but I figure they can't all be bad. And they aren't. Scorpius is cool."

Scorpius beamed. His recital over, Al looked around for any clues as to whether he was allowed to go back to his game. Draco nodded thanks, and the children resumed their conversation. Draco turned to Harry.

"Albus Severus?" he said quietly. "You named your son after a Death Eater?"

"He wasn't," said Harry, "not by the end. I didn't believe it until after his death. This was the best way to honour him, I thought."

"What convinced you?" asked Malfoy, genuinely curious.

"His memories. I saw his memories in a Pensieve. He was in love with my mother, since they were children, and he turned back to Dumbledore once Voldemort started hunting her."

"I remember you telling the Dark Lord that Snape was never his," remarked Malfoy, "right before he died. I was distracted by you talking about disarming me being the key."

"Yeah, who knew how important you'd turn out to be, huh?" joked Harry. "And, 'right before he died'? Right before I killed him, you mean."

"He killed himself," answered Malfoy. "I was there. I don't know if I'm taking your glory or setting your mind at ease, and frankly, Potter, I don't care, but Expelliarmus is not a killing curse. His own curse rebounded on him."

Harry was pensive. Suddenly, he changed the subject.

"It's your turn today," he announced.

"My turn for what?"

"Grill me. Ask me anything you like. I got my answers last time, now you'll get yours."

"What makes you think I have any questions for you, Potter?" asked Malfoy sarcastically.

"Oh, you have questions," said Harry without smiling. "You have questions about Ginny."

Malfoy stared at Harry for a minute.

"Did you love her?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes," said Harry without hesitation.

"Always? I wondered if that didn't come later. If you didn't just date her because…you had to be straight. I mean, if it got out that the Boy Who Lived was gay, that would shatter your fans' hopes and dreams." He was smirking again, but Harry could see the hurt underneath.

"Draco, I've considered myself bisexual since sixth year. I'll admit I was somewhat confused when I kissed you, and when you kissed me back, and I realized after that that you weren't the only boy I was attracted to. But Ginny was real. I was dreaming about you both, but I was falling in love with her."

Malfoy nodded, not looking at Harry, but Harry saw the unshed tears. He knew what Malfoy needed, and gave it. He looked away, watching a spot on the wall, not moving his eyes until Malfoy looked up, under control again. His eyes gave the thanks his words could not.

"Who else knows?" asked Malfoy quietly. "About you."

"No one," said Harry, then laughed a little.

"What?" said Malfoy.

"It's just kind of funny that you, who were once my enemy, know that I look at men as well as women, when my children don't know, my best friends don't know, my niece and nephew and godson don't know. But you do."

"Hard for me not to notice," said Malfoy, and they began to laugh, trying to smother it at first, and then giving up and just laughing out loud. Their children looked over, evidently decided that their fathers were crazy, and went back to their game. Harry grinned at Malfoy, who grinned back. Something about it felt odd, and it wasn't that it was Harry Potter he was smiling at. Then he realized that it had been years since he'd smiled like that, really smiled. He wasn't sure he'd ever done it at Hogwarts, and he'd certainly not done more than smirk since he lost Pansy. Harry went home wondering what might have been if he'd seen that beautiful smile when they were sixteen, and left Malfoy wondering why, after so many years, it mattered that Harry had called him Draco.


	4. Arguments and Reconciliations

Miscommunication and Suffering

Harry, Ron, and Hermione waved goodbye as the Hogwarts Express chugged away. Harry felt a momentary stabbing of guilt as he remembered them running up to him with hugs.

"Where've you been, mate?" Ron had crowed enthusiastically. Hermione had agreed.

"We haven't seen you in weeks!"

For, indeed, when the Potters craved company, they had turned to the Malfoys, and vice versa. Harry and Draco's conversations had been far less emotional and accusatory after those first days, and Harry had to admit that he quite liked the grown Malfoy.

The discomfort lasted until he got home, because it was there that he was hit, like a bolt of lightning, with the realization that he was alone in the house. He reminded himself that he had been alone before, when Ginny had taken the kids out, or, far more often, when he was a child or teenager. He had often relished the peace. But now—He tried to distract himself by making dinner, and was halfway to the desk where the family owl lived to write to Teddy, when he felt suddenly as though he couldn't move. The house alternately seemed to shrink and crush him and swell to such a size he felt lost. And he knew he couldn't stay there alone. So, for the first time, Harry Potter went to the fireplace, threw Floo Powder into it, and, stepping into the flames, shouted, "Malfoy Manor!" Draco Malfoy came running as his burglar alarm went off. When he saw it was Harry, he pointed his wand into the air and said, "Finite Incantatem!" The Caterwauling Charm ceased and left a ringing in Harry's ears.

"For a minute, I thought I was back in Hogsmeade when Snape was Headmaster," he said. Malfoy permitted himself a brief smile, then returned to looking worried.

"What's wrong?" Harry swayed, remembering the awful crampedness and openness of his house. Malfoy came closer and gripped his elbow.

"I couldn't stay there," Harry whispered. "All alone…"

"I know," Malfoy said. "I get it." Harry's knees went out from under him, and he collapsed, sobbing. Malfoy came to the floor with him and wrapped his strong arms around Harry's body. They stayed there until Harry could relax. Harry pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose with shaking hands.

"Thanks," he muttered. Malfoy let go of him, surreptitiously wiping away his own tears. They stood.

"Well, I'll be going, then," said Harry at the same time Malfoy said, "You could stay here tonight."

"Do you want me to stay?" asked Harry, but it came out harsh. Malfoy's face hardened.

"Fine. Go home, Potter."

"But—"

"HOME!" And in a whirlwind of movement, Malfoy had thrown powder into the fireplace that turned it sparkling green, shouted, "Casa Potter!" and shoved Harry into it.

Harry thought this was quite odd; after all, Malfoy hadn't stepped into the fire after him, and the Floo Network didn't work that way. But then Malfoy raised his wand and Harry felt lovely. He would go home, he thought, and, still standing there in the green flames, he said,

"Casa Potter!" of his own accord. Malfoy ended the spell, and Harry had just enough time to stare at him in disbelief and horror before he was whirling away, faster and faster, until he spilled out of the fireplace grate in his own home.

It was as alien as ever. Without Ginny, without James, Al, and Lily, he couldn't stay here. And he wasn't about to go rushing off to grovel at Malfoy's feet. He turned on the spot, and appeared on the front step of number 12, Grimmauld Place.

#12 had always been empty, and it was easier to walk through the halls here, making sure to tiptoe by the portrait of Mrs Black. He went up to Sirius' room. The familiar posters, banners, and ribbons stared down at him. And the picture. Harry crossed to the picture and looked into the grinning faces of his father, godfather, and their two best friends. What would his father do? Harry wondered briefly what might have transpired had James been out of the house that fateful Halloween. Would he have been the first to see the damage? Would he have still lived there, grieving over his wife and child, seeing them in every room? But no, it was Lily's sacrifice that had saved Harry's life. So he would still be alive. Would James have told him stories about his mother? Harry laid on Sirius' bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was no good. He was once more alone. How silly he'd been to think that feeling would ever leave him permanently.

And he allowed himself to think it.

Malfoy had used the Imperius Curse on him. He had forced Harry to go home. He had pushed him away.

A lump welled in Harry's throat. Was it too much to ask to have someone? Losing Ginny had pushed him away from the Weasleys, and sending his children back to school had pushed away Malfoy, albeit indirectly.

It was Teddy who found him, hours later.

"Uncle Harry!" Harry heard him calling from the first floor, and unwillingly dragged himself out of bed.

"I'm up here," he called, and Teddy was bounding up the stairs a moment later. Minus the older-than-his-years look, Teddy Lupin looked very like his father, Remus, and Harry felt a familiar pang.

Teddy raised his wand a silvery shape shot out of it, flying down the stairs.

"How'd you find me?" asked Harry.

"Looked," replied Teddy simply. "You weren't at home, at the Weasleys', the Malfoys', or my place. Where else would you go?"

"Why were you looking at all?"

"Got an anonymous tipoff," said Teddy. "Tory said she talked to a house-elf she didn't know. It told her someone needed to check on Harry Potter, and we started hunting. The Patronus was to let everyone know you'd been found. Pity we don't know who the elf belonged to, we could tell them." He gave his head a little shake to keep the turquoise locks out of his eyes.

"Why don't you leave it shorter?" Harry asked. "Tory like the devil-may-care look?" Teddy grinned.

"She says she doesn't care how I look, but she likes it long all the same. I get this secret little smile then." Harry grinned in spite of himself. That was something to be celebrated out of the war. Teddy and Victoire were the cutest couple he'd ever seen, counting himself and Ginny and Ron and Hermione both. Victoire was a perfect Veela, save for her Weasley-red hair, which Harry was starting to think followed different rules of inheritance than he'd learned in high school biology.

They reached the front room. Teddy faced Harry.

"Do you want to talk, Uncle Harry?" Harry shook his head, but reached out to hug the younger man.

"Thanks."

Teddy walked out the front door and Disapparated. Harry followed, but stood on the doorstep for a minute.

The house-elf could only have come from Malfoy, which meant…

"He does care," Harry whispered, and turned on the spot.

He appeared in front of Malfoy Manor with tears streaming down his face. Draco met him at the door.

"I'm sorry!" Draco blurted. "That was stupid, worse, it was—"

"Mean? But you were sorry. You cared enough to send my friends after me. Thank you. And I'm sorry, too."

"I'm all alone, too," whispered Malfoy. "Please stay?"

They stepped into each other's arms and Malfoy kissed Harry on the lips. Harry kissed him back, once, twice, three times, then broke away.

"Too soon," he murmured.

"I know," muttered Draco, turning away and letting go. "I'm not ready, either. I just want the comfort." He sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Harry, and you better believe I have never said that so bloody often in one day before."

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed him gently on the cheek, which did nothing to calm his adrenaline rush.

"I think I could fall in love with you," he whispered. "Just not right now. We both need more time." Draco looked at him.

"Can we just—sit together, then?"

Harry nodded, and they went into the house, arms around each other, and sat on the sofa, talking. Eventually they fell asleep there.

xxx

The Morning After

Harry woke up to find himself stretched out on Draco's couch, pressed up against Draco himself, who was in the same position, except propped on one elbow and watching Harry, who tried to roll onto his back. Draco reached out and caught him, preventing him from landing on his back on the floor, and Harry wished it were simple enough a situation for him to cuddle into Draco's chest, as he desperately wanted to do.

He felt instantly disloyal to Ginny. How long had she been gone? May, the Easter holiday, in fact, since the kids had been home. It was the first—the second!—of September. But, like Draco, he craved the comfort that loving another human being provided. His kids were not staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas or Easter holidays anymore, he would have to tell them that.

He sat up, as did Draco. Yes, as he'd thought, it was morning. He hoped Teddy hadn't dropped by to see how he was doing.

"Not quite what I'd imagined for our first night together," Malfoy quipped, and Harry slugged him.

"How about breakfast? I don't think I've eaten since…at least since dropping the kids off."

"Breakfast yesterday?" Draco shook his head. "Tilly!" A house-elf appeared with a loud crack.

"Master?"

"Breakfast for two." The house-elf bowed and vanished with another crack.

"You were at the station? I didn't see you."

"I didn't see you either. Still, it'd have been awkward with Ron and Hermione, wouldn't it?"

"Don't they know we've been spending time together?" Harry considered.

"They don't really get what it's like to lose your soulmate. Which is why I came to you in the first place. So I couldn't really expect them to get what you are to me now."

"And what is that?" Draco asked, not looking at Harry. "If Ginny was your soulmate."

"A bit like an ex-boyfriend I'm still quite close to, I suppose. More than just a friend. But not a lover. Not yet, anyway."

"They don't know about our brief history, either," mused Malfoy.

"Oh, come on," said Harry, "how would that look? 'Hello, everyone, remember Draco Malfoy? Yeah, we're spending a lot of time together since our wives died. And, oh, yeah, we snogged a couple of times in sixth year.'"

"Fine," said Draco, "I admit it would look bad. But if and when we do make it real, it'll be official, all right? No sneaking behind everyone's backs."

"Works for me," said Harry. "Breakfast!"

xxx

Together Again

They passed the better part of two years like this. Summer holidays they spent visiting each other. Ron and Hermione were caught up a bit further on the nature and depth of Harry and Draco's loneliness, and so were unsurprised to find Draco there when they came to visit Harry. But even they didn't know that both men kept clothing at each other's homes, or witnessed Harry doing James' sheets and Draco having Scorpius' done on the last day before each break. Not that they spent all their time together. Over time, the loneliness got easier to bear, and eventually, they spent time together mostly because they enjoyed each other's company.

Until one day about a week before summer break, they were sitting on Draco's couch, with their arms around each other's shoulders, Draco talking about Scorpius.

"—almost graduated and still doesn't know what he wants to do with his life, don't know how he ended up in Slytherin, no ambition—" Harry reached over and kissed Draco on the head sympathetically. Draco stopped at once.

"What was that for?"

"Something I used to do for Ginny," said Harry, suddenly unsure.

"I don't want to be your dead wife, Potter," said Draco dangerously, drawing away from Harry.

"You're not!" Somehow, Harry was on his feet. "You are not her. You complete me just like she did, but in a totally different way. Yes, I loved her, but now, I love you!" He stopped as though not sure why he'd just said that. Draco had lost the attitude completely and was staring dumbstruck at Harry. "I love you," repeated Harry, "and I want you to be my boyfriend."

He sat down again next to Draco and slid a hand around the inside of his knee. He reached up with his other hand and cupped the side of Draco's face, stroking it gently with his fingers. Slowly, very slowly, they leaned in to kiss. Draco slid his arms through Harry's, wrapping one around his waist and snaking the other up his back. They kissed until Draco leaned all the way back on the couch, bringing Harry on top of him. The bump broke their lips and they gazed into each other's eyes, grinning.

"I love you so much," whispered Draco. Harry nestled his head into Draco's chest, and Draco wrapped his arms around him.

"So," said Malfoy eventually, "When are we coming out?" Harry raised his head with a start.

"What?"

"You promised," Draco reminded him. "If and when we actually got together, we wouldn't sneak around. We'd tell people."

Harry sighed and planted his nose in Draco's chest. He raised it after a second and crossed his arms under his chin.

"I remember. You just surprised me. And…it's going to be difficult. Why does it matter, just out of curiosity? It's Gryffindors who are big on being loyal. I figured a Slytherin would find it exciting to see just how cunning he could be about a condemned relationship." Draco looked at him, suddenly serious.

"I've been the Death Eaters' castoff and your castoff, not to mention the Order's. I don't want to be your dirty little secret now."

Harry reached up and kissed him. "You won't," he promised.

xxx

Out of the Closet and Into the Fire

Harry sat in the Weasleys' kitchen, clutching a cup of tea. Ron and Hermione stared at him worriedly.

"What's up, mate?" asked Ron.

"Harry, you know you can tell us anything," added Hermione.

"Well," began Harry, "there's something I never really told you. It wasn't really important before, I guess, and I really didn't want to get into the details, but now…well, it's that I'm bisexual." They continued staring at him.

"What, so you're normal and pouf both?" asked Ron after an eternity of a couple seconds.

"Ron!" scolded Hermione reflexively.

"I suppose," said Harry miserably. "Men and women. And well, the thing is—the thing is—bloody—" He buried his face in his hands for a second, then took a sip of tea and said, "I'm going out with Draco Malfoy."

They sat in another few very long seconds of silence, then Ron swore and got up. He paced the room a few times, then went into the other room and slammed the door shut behind himself. Hermione looked from the door to Harry, torn. He waved her away, and with a desperate "Don't go anywhere!" she followed her husband.

The minutes ticked by. Harry could hear angry conversation on the other side of the door. He constantly contemplated ignoring Hermione's instruction and leaving. He finished his tea trying to keep a calm face. But if that was how Ron reacted…and even Hermione…what were Al and Lily going to say, and even James? Heck, what was Teddy going to say? But his thoughts returned to his children. Expressions of betrayal on their faces kept slipping into his mind unbidden, and he stuffed his knuckles into his mouth to keep his face from twisting up, but it was no good, and hot, thick tears began to flow. He was practiced at silent crying from his youth, as Uncle Vernon could hear him through the vents if he sobbed in his cupboard, and would holler at him to quit it, no matter how hard Dudley had hit him. But he had to breathe, and against his will, a sob slipped out. All was suddenly quiet on the other side of the door, and Harry hastily wiped away the tears, but he did not have time to put his face back in a normal expression before Hermione emerged. Flying across the room, she wrapped her arms around him. Ron came more slowly, eventually sitting next to Harry and laying a hand on his arm. Harry shook with repressed sobs, but Hermione held him until he could be calm. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept saying, finally passing him a box of tissues and letting him blow his nose.

"I'm sorry, mate," Ron said quietly. "It's not that you're—bisexual, and I'll admit Malfoy's turned into a halfway decent chap. It's just…" He trailed off. Harry watched him through bloodshot eyes. He knew what Ron was saying, but he wanted to hear it from Ron's own mouth. "You were married to my sister," said Ron finally, "and now that she's gone, you're with someone else. It being a bloke and Draco Malfoy is just sort of insult to injury."

"I loved her," said Harry in a dead sort of voice. "I still do. I always will, no matter how long I outlive her by. But I love him, too." Ron nodded, though he didn't look happy.

"Just tell me one thing. Was it ever…you know…both of them? At the same time?"

"I was thinking about them at the same time for a while, back in sixth year. And I kissed him a few times. But from the first time I kissed Ginny, the day we won the match, to a couple months ago, it's been all her." Ron nodded again.

"Then, do what you want, is what I guess I want to say. It's going to take time to get used to the idea, but I'm not going to disown you or anything. Except," he looked at Harry, "do I have to watch you snogging?"

That quirked the side of Harry's mouth up. "Not today," he promised, though he was thinking that he and Ron had had almost this same conversation when Harry had started seeing Ginny, except without the storming out, and a lot less verbally. How much, then, they'd understood from a look!


	5. Gearing Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Once again, I didn't know until it was too late that McGonagall didn't remain Headmistress.

Affirmation

"So that's two down, three to go," concluded Harry. "No, four! I forgot Teddy." Draco kissed him gently, and for a moment, Harry forgot why he was worried.

"I've got Scorpius, too," Draco reminded him. "And my parents, I suppose."

'Yeah, at least I don't have to explain everything to Dad," Harry commented. He thought about that. He thought he knew what his father's reaction would have been at age fifteen, but now? What would he think of his son's bisexuality? It had never been something that really bothered Harry, especially since he'd put all others, male and female, out of his mind since he'd first started dating Ginny. Almost worse, what would his father think of his dating a Slytherin? The thought made Harry laugh. Draco raised one eyebrow, and Harry explained.

"What do I have to worry about more—reactions to my going out with another man, or with a Slytherin?" Draco grinned.

"And look at me—dating a man, and a blood traitor."

"Does that bother you?" Harry asked seriously. "The blood traitor thing."

"Yeah, right," said Draco sarcastically. "I'm planning to leave you at first mention of it. Oops, too late." Harry wrapped his arm around his waist and squeezed. "It's not something that really bothers you when you're falling in love," Draco added. Harry looked at him, attempting to convey more love and gratitude in that one look than he could ever have done with words, and then, just in case he hadn't got his point across, kissed him.

xxx

Hogwarts

The next day, Harry stepped into the fireplace, calling "Hogwarts!" as he went. He was whirled around until he finally came to a stop and was able to make a grown-up-like entrance into the Deputy Headmaster's office. The Deputy showed Harry to Professor McGonagall's office, and Harry went up the familiar staircase.

"Good morning, Mr Potter. How may I help you?" Harry smiled at Minerva McGonagall, who was quite a bit older than when she'd been his Transfiguration teacher, but had lost none of her command.

"Just dropping in," he replied. "Wanted to see Professors Lupin and Longbottom, visit my children."

"It's nearly the summer holiday, Mr Potter. Couldn't you wait?" McGonagall asked, then shook her head. "But it must get lonely at your house still. Of course. And thank you for dropping by."

Harry borrowed a class schedule, and noted that Teddy had a class in session right now. He walked down the familiar halls to the classroom and poked his head inside.

"Uncle Harry!" roared Teddy. "Expelliarmus!"  
"Protego!" yelled Harry just in time, and Teddy laughed.

"Break, everyone! I don't think anyone here's had the pleasure—this is my Uncle Harry, class. Uncle, these are my third years." Harry looked around approvingly. The room was set up much as the Room of Requirement had been when he was running the D.A. in fifth year. Desks were stacked on the sides, and students and teacher alike were flushed and sweaty, sleeves rolled up, wands out. Stacks of cushions provided small barriers, and a small team were hiding behind Teddy's desk, apparently in order to shoot spells from behind it.

"Practical, I'm assuming?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely!" Teddy beamed. "Quick thinking today. Disarming only, but in a fight zone."

"Wouldn't have set it up any differently myself," replied Harry, and Teddy grinned. Turning to the class, he called,

"This is the man who taught me everything I know. Beats me why he's working for the Ministry."

"As an Auror," Harry reminded him, "I use this stuff all the time. Not that we're that busy anymore." Teddy ran a hand through his turquoise hair, which was a couple inches shorter than usual, and sticking up everywhere.

"Hair get in your eyes?" Harry inquired. Teddy nodded, still grinning.

"Kids love it. I shorten it whenever we're doing practicals. Sometimes I think they only call me their favourite teacher because I have green hair that grows on command."

"No," piped a third year, "it's because you're the most fun teacher ever!"

"Test your theory," Harry suggested. "Show up with brown hair and see what they do."

"I do, for my NEWT classes," replied Teddy. "Come in as someone new every day. Keeps them on their toes."

"Wish I'd had you for a teacher," replied Harry. "You're like your father, Barty Crouch posing as Alastor Moody, and the D.A. all rolled into one."

"That last being really, '-and me, all rolled into one'?" asked Teddy. "I'm flattered. It's you taught me more than my Hogwarts professors all put together."

"That cannot be true," Harry scoffed. Teddy shook his head.

"You're Harry Potter," he said seriously.

"I'm glad you still like it so much here," said Harry, changing the subject.

"I'm following in my godfather and father's footsteps both. Mother's, too, if you think about it," replied Teddy. "What better for me to do?"

Harry could not think of anything, and told him so. He could not bring himself to tell Teddy why he'd come, and so excused himself. "Drop in anytime, Uncle Harry," Teddy called after him.

He went next to the greenhouse. He knew Neville's Herbology lesson had just ended, thanks to his versatile teachers' schedule. And there he was, talking gently to a Venomous Tentacula as he locked it up.

"Hello, Neville," said Harry, coming up behind him.

"Blimey, Harry, you made me jump," replied Neville, turning around and giving Harry a hug. "How've you been?"

"Not bad," said Harry. A wild notion struck him, and he grabbed onto it, not stopping to evaluate it. He had not come to bare his soul to Neville, but Neville was nearly as old a friend as Ron and Hermione. And he had a good feeling about it.

"Seeing someone new, actually." Neville raised his eyebrows.

"Figured you and Ginny were a done deal. But 'till death do us part', I guess, and you could use it. Who?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Draco Malfoy," he said, letting it out. Neville's eyebrows shot up even higher.

"Harry, seriously, I know he's aristocratic, but he was a Death Eater! Aren't he and his family the very people you capture and hunt?"

"It was never proved, and they were never really evil. Just sheep, following the strongest leader. Draco's grown since then," said Harry, but he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" asked Neville, frowning.

"You care that he was once a rather unsuccessful Death Eater, but you haven't mentioned that he's a man."

Neville waved a hand dismissively.

"My last year at Hogwarts, the year of the Carrows, everyone was getting matched up as much as possible. Needed the comfort. It was even worse at Hogwarts than outside. And in the D.A., they could be more open about it. Saw a lot of pairings you wouldn't expect. Like Michael Corner, you know he's gay?"

Harry couldn't believe his ears.

"Michael Corner? The one who dated Ginny?"

Neville nodded. "Him and another Ravenclaw seventh year. I think they're still together. Point is, if Malfoy makes you happy, and you're reasonably sure he's not just trying to catch you with your guard down to murder you, go for it." Neville finished locking up the greenhouse, and they began to walk.

"You sound like Moody. 'Constant vigilance!'" Neville shuddered.

"Still gives me the creeps to think of him. I mean, first he uses Cruciatus right in front of me, and then he gives me a book on plants, and then turns out to be a Death Eater."

"I forgot you never got to know the real Moody," Harry agreed. "Saw a lot of him in the Order of the Phoenix."

"Anyway, I'm not going to tell anyone, so don't worry about that," Neville went on as they neared the castle. "Told anyone else yet?"

"Ron and Hermione. That was a nightmare." And Harry went on to describe the fiasco. Neville was very sympathetic, gasping in all the right places and shaking his head.

When they reached the entrance hall, they turned to part.

"Thanks," said Harry genuinely.

"No problem," agreed Neville. "Thanks for stopping by."

Al and Lily appeared in the entrance hall. Al was clutching a piece of paper Harry recognized very clearly. He tapped it surreptitiously with his wand, and muttered something Harry knew would be "Mischief Managed". Of course, if they'd seen him on the map, they'd come to investigate. Harry had noticed when the map had vanished from his desk drawer, and tried not to feel too proud when the letters from Hogwarts stopped arriving, knowing that James had just gotten better at not getting caught with the aid of the map. James, in a fit of generosity, had passed it on when he graduated. Harry supposed he ought to feel guilty for fostering the next generation of rule-breakers, but he felt it was his legacy to his son from Harry's own father, who had, of course, helped write it, and he hadn't exactly given it to James. Teddy had once confided that he was glad James had stolen it without telling him, and so he hadn't felt pressured to join in the rule-breaking of his god-siblings. Indeed, Harry felt that Teddy had gotten the best lot in life that he could. He had been a prefect and straight-O student, yet so good-natured and willing to help out that everybody liked him and nobody called him a teacher's pet. His favourite student, predictably, was Rose Weasley, who was as clever as her mother, and they had a similar extracurricular relationship to that of Harry and Remus. James, however, had clearly gotten his namesake grandfather's, as well as his uncle Fred's and uncle George's, rule breaking talents. Harry did not reprimand him too sharply, as long as no one ever got hurt.

"Hi, Dad," said Al, shoving the Marauder's Map back into his robes and striding toward his father, closely followed by his sister. "What're you doing here?"

"Wanted to see you," said Harry, his heart beating in his throat.

"You'll see us in two days," said Lily. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," said Harry hastily. "It's just, I wanted to ask you. What would you think if I started dating again?" They were silent for what felt like hours. Then Al said slowly,

"I know you loved Mum. And we've all been grieving for a long time, so it's not like you got over her and moved on. We can't stay like that forever. So, I guess I mean, go for it, Dad." Lily nodded, though she looked apprehensive. Harry felt relieved.

"Monday, then?" he said. "We'll all get together and talk about it."


	6. St. Mungo's

Sectumsempra Again

Harry appeared in Malfoy Manor and took a second to get his bearings.

"Draco?" he called. No answer. "Hominem revelio," he muttered, and nothing happened. He was alone.

"Mr Potter?" Harry jumped. Well, he supposed a house-elf didn't count as a 'hominem', even if, as Hermione was always telling him, they were people too.

"Hello, Elma," he said. The house-elf bowed double.

"Can I do anything for Master?" she asked.

"Where is Mr Malfoy?" asked Harry.

"Sir, Mr Malfoy decided to visit his parents, Mr and Mrs Malfoy senior," replied Elma.

"He didn't say anything about it to me," muttered Harry, thinking aloud more than anything.

"Sir, it was a very sudden decision," replied Elma. "He told Elma he was sick of wondering, and he Disapparated, Sir."

"Well," he said to Elma, "that means nobody is looking after Master Draco at the moment. So I'll be going after him." The elf bowed, and Harry took a second to wonder where he'd picked up house-elf grammar before he fixed the location of Malfoy Manor Senior in his head and Disapparated again.

Harry was not so foolish as to assume he was as welcome to appear in Lucius Malfoy's drawing room as he was in his son's. He appeared a little ways down the road from the ostentatious palace to which Lucius and Narcissa had retired, started along it, then stopped to think. Pulling out his wand, he muttered, "Scourgify," and directed the spell at his own clothes. The only reason he could think of for Draco to make an impromptu visit to his parents was to come out, and if things didn't already look like the Battle of Hogwarts in there, then there was no point in making things worse by showing up both uninvited and unpresentable. He was even starting to think like a Malfoy. He walked briskly down the walk until he drew level with the house. He paused at the door, wondering if he should knock or wait, when a scream split the air. Harry's blood ran cold and he knew it was Draco's. Years of Auror training kicked in as he whipped out his wand and shot a Reductor Curse at the door, not bothering to find out if the Malfoys had special locks on their doors. He stepped over the door, made his best judgment as to the direction of the scream, which wasn't difficult, as it was still going, and dashed through the house.

He broke into the drawing room and didn't bother to pause. A millisecond was all he needed to take in the scene. Draco, his Draco, was hanging in mid-air as involuntary shocks rippled through his body, that scream still issuing from his mouth. Narcissa Malfoy had her hands over her mouth, as though unsure what to do. And Lucius Malfoy had his wand trained on his son.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Harry, and the curse broke as Lucius' wand flew towards him, and he caught it. Draco slumped onto the ground and finally stopped screaming. Harry rushed toward him, pulled him up onto his shoulder, and turned on the spot. But somehow, Lucius had got across the room, snatched his wife's wand, and the last thing Harry heard before he Disapparated was the terrible word, "Sectumsempra!" Harry had been aiming for their own Manor when he Disapparated, but he didn't bother to stop there, feeling his way back through nothing until he landed in the lobby of St. Mungo's. A fair few gasps greeting his arrival, followed by the usual whispering. He carefully laid Draco on the floor where he was, noting with a sick feeling in his stomach that the curse had hit. Blood was streaming down his boyfriend's back, and Draco was shaking uncontrollably. The combined effect of the Cruciatus Curse, Sectumsempra, and his father's use of Dark Magic against him, Harry could only imagine. Draco was awake, though, and his eyes found Harry's as Harry grasped his hand. There was no need to call for help; he had already noted the witch at the desk calling for a Healer.

"Funny, isn't it?" Draco whispered. "Sectumsempra began our relationship and ended it."

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" asked Harry, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Because you're not going to die."

"Did my big brave Auror save me?"

"Yep," Harry replied, panicking even more now, although Healers were moving around him, performing the same spell Snape had used in their sixth year. "And you can't tell me you weren't attracted to me before that day in the bathroom."

"I was awful," whispered Malfoy, "awful to you in third year, remember? I was pretty much awful to everyone. Fighting so hard, even then, to convince everyone, especially myself, that I wasn't attracted to you, Potter. That I didn't think you were handsome. I buried the tiny part of me that loved you, idolized you, even then, as deep as I could. Even I didn't realize it was there, not completely. I was doing pretty well until sixth year." He stopped to take a few deep breaths and close his eyes for a moment. Harry gripped his hand tighter. The Healers were now trying to get him back so they could levitate Draco. He scooted backward on his knees, but didn't let go, slowly standing as Draco rose into the air. He walked beside his lover, who was weirdly floating on his back.

"Sixth year?" he prompted.

"Still lying to myself," admitted Draco with his eyes shut, "But I knew I was doing it, then. And then you had to go and kiss me. Couldn't lie to myself after that. Everybody else, sure. Married Pansy, didn't I, and she never knew you were my favourite, my first real kiss, that was how I thought of it. You're a good kisser, Potter." Harry grinned a little.

"Third year, huh?"

"Oh, come on," said Draco, opening his eyes, "don't tell me you didn't start to notice at thirteen too."

"I had a huge crush on Cho Chang," admitted Harry, "but it never occurred to me that I like guys too until you."

He glanced at the Healers momentarily, who had got the whole party into a room now and were getting Draco into a bed. They didn't seem to have any objection to the conversation, or perhaps were pointedly ignoring it, but at any rate they didn't seem to think Harry was exhausting Draco excessively. So he waited until they had magically settled Draco in bed on his front, and, pulling up a chair while they began to bandage the wounds, said, "Tell me how you tortured yourself, with all that lying." Draco smirked, and said,

"Oh, I remember once in third year I was being an ass and making a big deal out of a fake injury."

"I remember that," said Harry. "You nearly got Buckbeak executed."

"Would sorry help at this point?" asked Draco wryly and Harry had to laugh. "Anyway, I specifically remember sitting at your table in Potions one day and making you and Weasley prepare my ingredients for me. And you said something like 'So that's why you're playing it up', I don't remember exactly. What I do remember with perfect detail is I said, 'Well, partly. But there are other benefits, too.' And I was so scared at that moment, and I didn't even allow myself to complete the thought as to why, but I know what it was. I was afraid you'd interpret that as sitting with you being the benefit. Maybe that was what I really meant, anyway, and even I didn't know it."

"Freudian slip," said Harry, and when Draco gave him an odd look, added, "Never mind. Go on."

"I had to cover up right away," said Draco, "so I found another ingredient for Weasley to chop. Not you, mind that would have been too obvious."

"You were paranoid," said Harry, but one of the Healers interrupted him.

"He needs sleep now, sir, and we'd like a little more information. He's well out of the woods, so why don't you come downstairs while we give him a potion?"

Harry smiled at Draco and allowed himself to be led downstairs, where he outlined Draco's malady to the Healer, and gave both their names and addresses. When he was finished, he Apparated to the Auror office and ordered the elder Malfoys to be brought in to Azkaban without a trace of guilt, now that there were no Dementors. Finished there, he found himself with nothing to do. He already knew he couldn't be alone in any sort of fragile mental state, and if that wasn't what this was, he would eat his broom. The Healers had told him emphatically to leave Draco alone until visiting hours the next day, so, biting his lip, Harry turned on the spot and appeared at the door of Ron and Hermione's.

xxx

Coming Clean

"Harry?" asked Ron, opening the door and looking worried. "What's wrong?"

"Draco's in St. Mungo's," said Harry. Ron opened the door wider and Harry stepped inside.

"Did I hear that right?" asked Hermione, coming in from the next room. "Draco's in St. Mungo's?"

"And, what, you need us to help?" said Ron, looking a bit guarded, but Harry was grateful all the same for the offer.

"No, not really. I just…really need to not be alone right now." Hermione pulled him into a tight hug. After letting go, she led him into the sitting room, followed by Ron, and Harry sat heavily on a couch.

"You want to talk about what happened?" said Ron. Harry shot him a grateful glance and slowly, haltingly told them the story. When he was finished, Ron swore under his breath, and Hermione didn't even reprimand him.

"They say I can't go visit again until tomorrow, when normal visiting hours are on," said Harry.

"Then stay," said Hermione immediately. And so he did. They talked for hours. After a few awkward pauses and false starts, they managed to fall back into their old schoolchildren's pattern, and talked about anything and everything. The Chudley Cannons were favourites for England and Ron was over the moon. Hermione had gotten legislature passed that would allow any house-elf who wanted wages and holidays to apply to the Ministry of Magic for them. Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy had now been dating a year. Hugo was getting top marks in Herbology, and Rose top marks in everything else. Lily wanted to be a mediwitch, so she was studying extra hard at Potions. Al and James were best at DADA, but that might be because Teddy was teaching it.

Harry's face fell at the mention of his godson, and both of his best friends noticed at once.

"What's wrong, mate?" asked Ron, but as usual, Hermione was quicker on the uptake.

"Teddy doesn't know about you and Draco, does he?" she asked softly. Harry shook his head.

"Look, mate, Teddy will be fine with it," said Ron, looking Harry in the eyes. "He has long conversations with the goblins every time he goes to Gringotts about their point of view. When he goes to someone's house, he asks the house-elves how they're doing. The centaurs in the forest and all the Slytherins respect him, and that's saying something. If his mind were any more open, his brain would fall out." Now Hermione did shoot him a nasty glare.

"He ought to be done with classes by now," she said to Harry. "Do you want me to have him over and you can talk?" Harry nodded, wondering what he was getting himself into.

Hermione got up and went over to the fireplace. She took a pinch of Floo Powder out of the flowerpot sitting there and tossed it into the flames, which turned bright green.

"Teddy!" she called out. "Want to come over?"

A moment later, Teddy appeared, spinning in the fireplace and stepping out.

"Aunt Hermione, what a surprise! Of course I'll come visit! Uncle Ron! Uncle Harry, what are you doing here!" He embraced them all one by one. They exchanged pleasantries for a bit, and then Hermione said, "You're staying for dinner, of course?"

"Of course."

"Come on, Ron," she said. "You're helping." Harry tried to get up and follow, but she stopped him with a pointed look. "You stay here and keep Teddy company."

Harry sighed, knowing what they were doing, and finding his courage lacking.

"How are you doing, Uncle Harry?" asked Teddy, turning to face his godfather.

"I'm dating Draco Malfoy," said Harry in a rush. He hadn't meant to do that. He'd intended to ease into the subject, not simply blurt it out.

"I thought maybe there was something going on there," said Teddy, causing Harry to stare at him in shock. "What?" he defended. "He's always there every time we come to visit. Maybe Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron don't watch people they don't like very much, but I've never had any reason to dislike him, his son's always polite to me. The way he looks at you, Uncle Harry…" And for the first time, Teddy blushed. "It's like the way I look at Tory. And I'm proposing to Tory as soon as I can afford the ring. So, no, I'm not really surprised you're dating Draco."

Harry continued to stare at him for a moment, then said, "I wish Ron had observation skills like that. It'd have saved Hermione a lot of heartbreak."

"Ah, well, he got around to marrying her in the end," said Teddy, chuckling.

"Not that you remember," said Harry, also chuckling.

"No, what was I, three? But Bill tells the story every Thanksgiving."

"Dinner!" called Hermione from the kitchen, and Harry and Teddy stood, grinning at each other.

"I hope you can be happy together, Uncle Harry," said Teddy, and embraced him. Harry held his godson tightly for a moment, then released him, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

xxx

Unmasking Draco Malfoy

Harry returned to the hospital wing the next day. Draco was on the same floor as Mr Weasley when he had been attacked, he realized now. He found Draco sitting up in bed. His expression was strange, almost guarded.

"Well, look who it is," he drawled. "The Chosen One."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"The famous Potter deigns to walk into a hospital wing. He makes a ghost of an effort to notice those injured on his watch," Draco continued.

"You sound like a teenager," said Harry, trying to make sense of it. Then it clicked. Draco had told him last night. It was a mask. At once he crossed the room, pulling up a visitor's chair by Draco's bedside and leaning in to wrap his arms around the other man. "I love you," he said simply. "I would have protected you if I knew where you were."

Draco's face screwed up and his next words were sobs.

"But you didn't! You weren't there when he hurt me like you hurt me!" He punched at Harry weakly, but Harry didn't let go. Instead, he pulled Draco tighter, climbing up onto the bed with him and wrapping his arms around him tightly, holding Draco as he cried.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry for everything I ever did to you."

They fell asleep like that, the white hair next to the black.

When Harry woke up the next morning, Draco was already awake, though he'd made no attempt to extricate himself from Harry's embrace.

"Lucky we're both so thin," Harry said groggily. He was on top of the blanket, while Draco was under it. Draco laughed softly.

"Good morning to you, too. Listen, I'm sorry. I was upset. I know it wasn't your fault. It just brought back horrible memories of—of sixth year."

"I get it," said Harry softly, kissing him on top of the head.

"And really, it should be me apologizing for everything I've ever done to you," said Draco, craning his neck back to look Harry in the eyes.

"All those years of taunting you, calling your friends names, and being pretty much awful…I wanted two things more than anything, to be straight and to be like my father. But my father used those curses on me knowing what they did, and you've said you wouldn't have done it if you'd known, and that was before you ever loved me. I'm sorry, Harry, for everything."

"I forgive you," said Harry simply, and tears welled up in Draco's eyes again.

"I forgive you, too," he whispered.

"Start over?" offered Harry. Draco nodded and smiled weakly. "Just one thing," said Harry, suddenly serious. "You need to apologize to Ron and Hermione personally. And Neville," he added as an afterthought. Draco rolled his eyes in mock consternation.

"You don't make it easy, do you, Potter?" he asked, grinning, and Harry grinned back.

"Nobody said it would be easy," he replied. Just then, a Healer arrived. Harry sat up, a little embarrassed.

"Thank you, Mr Potter," said the Healer tartly. "I need to check on Mr Malfoy."

The Healer gave Draco a clean bill of health and a potion for dreamless sleep should he have nightmares.

They were ready to Disapparate when Draco said, "Come on, let's walk a little bit."

"Ugh, it's raining," groaned Harry at the visitor's entrance.

"I love the rain," replied Draco. Harry looked at him in surprise.

"I never knew that," he said.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," said Draco, with an impish grin on his face Harry had never seen there before. "Kiss me in the rain, Harry Potter."

"What?" said Harry, laughing, but Draco had already run out through the visitor's entrance. Harry followed him, not bothering to cast Impervious to stop himself getting soaked. He caught up with Draco, who was still grinning brilliantly, hair plastered to his face.

"Kiss me so they can all see," said Draco, gesturing to the Muggles around him, and Harry did. To his great surprise, a few of them actually cheered.


	7. End

Once More unto the Breach

Harry sat at the kitchen table, staring at a knot in the wood. His three children sat across from him, waiting expectantly. Draco stood behind him, a few feet back, leaning against the wall.

"What is it, Dad?" asked Al. Harry looked up and saw that Al was staring back at him out of perfect replicas of his own eyes. His mother's eyes. Al, always the most trusting, Lily, the quiet one until something turned on her inner firebrand, so much like her mother. And James. Clever, calculating, volatile, and a practical jokester.

"What's Mr Malfoy doing here?" asked James.

"Well—I—er—" Harry's brain froze. Petrified, he looked over his shoulder at Draco, who nodded.

"We're together," said Harry, and in the instant before the uproar, felt the last of the load lift from his chest. Then—

"What do you mean, together?" demanded James.

"Dad—you're going out with him?" asked Lily in something akin to horror. James swore and stood.

"Are you gay, Dad?" asked Al, whose quiet voice still cut through the commotion.

"Yes," said Harry to Lily, and, "No," he said to Albus, who nodded as though that settled it. Lily and James, though, weren't finished.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"What happened to Mum?"

"After all we said about you having loved Mum?" shouted Lily.

"Where was I in this conversation? This is the first I've heard of it?" added James at the top of his lungs. Al looked mildly worried.

Harry couldn't say anything. He tried to remind himself that he'd faced down one of the greatest Dark Wizards of all time, and that he could certainly face his children, but found that his children's fury was worse. He could feel his limbs shaking under their fury and his guilt. And then Draco came up behind him.

"Stop," he said quietly.

"You're not our father!" stormed James.

"And he doesn't need your help!" shouted Lily.

"Really?" said Draco. "I know I'm not your father, and I'm not asking you to treat me like it. But I believe he does need my help. If you look at his face, you'll see that your anger is worse than the Cruciatus Curse to him. And I can promise you that he did love your mother. He left me for her when we were still in school, and he's never regretted it, have you?"

Harry shook his head mutely. His children stared at him. Then, Lily sat with a sigh, and James followed a second later.

"I'm bisexual," said Harry at last, "and I loved your mother more than anything. But I found it's possible to love more than one person in your life." James snorted.

"I'll believe you love shagging him," he said.

("James!" hissed Lily.)

"He's a Death Eater, dad. You should lock him up, not do him," continued James.

Draco leaned across the table at James.

"Look into my eyes," he ordered. Unwillingly, James did. "If you can see the Death Eater there, you can see your father," said Draco, and, as all of the children started to protest, "because the part of me that's there because of him is so much greater than the part that's there because of the Dark Lord." And then, dropping the anger, so they could all see the person Draco had been at St. Mungo's, "Your father saved me, in so many ways."

"And he's saved me," said Harry, aware that Draco was doing so at this very moment.

"And, for the record, I've barely touched him," said Draco, sitting and folding his hands as though the matter was closed.

"You don't seem fussed, Al," said Harry, for his younger son gave every appearance of waiting out what he felt was a highly unnecessary storm.

"I wouldn't mind having Scorpius as a brother," said Al. And, to Draco, "And he thinks you're pretty neat, so I'm inclined to take his word for it. I don't care if you date my dad."

Draco's mouth quirked in a grin. "He says that, does he?"

They ate lunch, carefully only talking about school. Harry got up to do the dishes, belly aching. His relief that it was over had made him hungry. As he set the plates to cleaning themselves, Draco brought over another load of dishes.

"So, what makes you so sure you'll be the one touching me?" asked Harry in an undertone.

"Oh, shut up, Potter," said Draco, grinning widely, and Harry found himself unable to suppress what he was sure was a most idiotic grin of his own.

"Get a room," called James.

xxx

First Kiss

"You may now kiss your spouse," said the minister, and Draco leaned in, but Harry held up a finger and addressed the crowd.

""I just want to say," he began, as Draco stared at him, "we've had a rough go of it. And I missed my chance to give Draco here the most romantic first kiss ever. Our first kisses weren't about love so much as confusion, lust, anger, and need." Draco's face had lost its confused expression. Now, it held only love.

"So I'm going to make it up to him now," said Harry, drawing a deep breath and wishing his heart would slow down a little. "I'm going to give my new husband the kiss that should have been our first." A few people whooped. Harry thought he recognized George Weasley's voice. He ran a hand down the blond man's cheekbone. Draco closed his eyes and shuddered with pleasure. Someone aw'd. Harry cupped Draco's face and drew him in close. He leaned in, closing his own eyes, and tilting his head forward so that their noses brushed. He was breathing through his mouth now, almost hyperventilating with anticipation. So was Draco, whose breath he could feel on his lips, which told him he was ready. Slowly, slowly, he tilted his chin forward and kissed his husband, sweetly, softly. Draco moved into the kiss, returning it firmly. It was as wonderful as he'd ever hoped for.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Heh, have I scared you? Don’t worry, it’s D/H by the end.


End file.
